


(Happily Ever) After

by skysedge



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21820096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysedge/pseuds/skysedge
Summary: This is after the story ends.
Relationships: Cho Hakkai/Sha Gojyo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: Minekura Secret Santa 2019





	(Happily Ever) After

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Molly as part of the Minekura Fans Secret Santa! Happy holidays! I hope you enjoy this exploration of how things might be after the journey comes to a close.

This is after the story ends. 

The battles have been fought and won, the parties have been thrown, they’ve raised glasses for the dead and written letters for the living and the world has begun turning once more. 

At first it had been difficult for Hakkai to keep up with the spin, having spent so long living separated from the everyday rhythms that he had once taken for granted. The apartment felt so small after seeing the vastness of the world that for the first few weeks he found himself bumping into furniture and scuffing his feet off of corners, a clumsy wild animal just playing house. He had missed the first two trash collection days and the frustration at such a simple mistake had brought tears to his eyes. 

It was ridiculous, all of it, all these tiny meaningless things that make up a normal life. At one point he holds a newspaper in his hands and just stares at it, the words blurring and fading, all of it so _trivial._ If he was alone, this would all be impossible. He’s institutionalised, or the opposite, brutalised maybe, and even though the story is over his life isn’t and the blank future is terrifying to behold. 

But he’s not alone. He hasn’t been alone for a long time now. Coming to terms with that is as overwhelming as the future he hadn’t expected to live to see. 

The snow starts falling hesitantly just after midnight. 

Hakkai sees the first flakes spiral downwards from his seat on the windowsill. He has a mug of cocoa cradled in his hands, glasses slightly fogged from the rising steam, and as he follows the dance of those first few snowflakes with his eye he feels a peace settle over him that’s as comforting and warm as a well-loved sweater. Gradually the blackness outside the window becomes speckled with white, crystals illuminated by the lamplight from within. 

It’s marvellous, he thinks, how snow can fall so quietly and beautifully like this. He remembers harsh mountains, blood soaking into the whiteness, ice sharp enough to make a man bleed. Snow like this is a lie. A danger wearing a polite mask. He would know all about that after all. 

“Whatever it is you’re thinkin’, stop it.” 

He doesn’t need to turn to see Gojyo coming up behind him. It’s dark enough outside that his reflection is clear in the window, a burst of colour against the black and white static of the sky. Gojyo is wearing a fluffy dressing gown, a towel around his shoulders, his feet encased in bright red slippers. He’s smiling warmly, fondly, despite the reprimand. Hakkai smiles at his reflection. 

“What would you do if I said I can’t?” 

There had been a time when the conversation would have ended here. Long silences and unanswered questions, neither of them wanting to give voice to the darkness within that was always far deeper than that of a midnight sky. With each silence Hakkai had grown a little colder inside. He had always feared his heart would freeze over completely one day. 

An arm slips around his shoulders and he’s pulled away from the window, the fluff of Gojyo’s gown tickling his nose. He smells of soap and of old smoke, of the promise of sleep, of home. 

“You can,” Gojyo says easily. “You will.” 

He does. He sets he mug aside and leans upwards for a kiss and for a time thinks of nothing at all. When they break apart, a little ruffled, a little out of breath, the snow has stopped falling. Hakkai peers down at the ground outside and allows himself a little laugh. 

“It’s thawing already.” 

Gojyo gives him a lopsided smile and pressed a hand above Hakkai’s heart. 

“It’s ‘bout time,” he says. 

They’ve been back four days when Hakkai decides to cut Gojyo’s hair. 

It’s not just long, it’s wild. When he finally manages to wrestle a comb through the ends there are bits of the past caught in the teeth. Bits of plant from the woodland, flecks of dried blood that could belong to anyone, colourful paper confetti from the celebrations at the temple. 

“Have you even washed this?” he asks lightly. 

“The worst part is that I have,” Gojyo groans. “How much do I gotta lose, doc?” 

Hakkai runs his fingers through the crimson strands. They catch in split ends and snarls. 

“A lot, I’m afraid.” 

“Agh, fuck it, just shave it all off.” 

It’s a logical answer. It would save them both a great deal of trouble. And yet Hakkai takes up the scissors and the comb and gets to work silently, snips around the damage carefully and patiently, teases out knots. Gojyo stays silent during the process and when Hakkai finally finishes, his eyes have fallen shut. 

“I’m finished.” 

They walk to the mirror together and while Gojyo is looking at his hair, Hakkai is looking at him. He’s seen this man in all states of being, he realises. He’s seen him at his worst and at his best, at his most lost and his most determined. He can’t remember when it was that Gojyo stopped pretending to be the playboy around him. He can’t remember when they had stopped wearing masks altogether. With a start, he realises that Gojyo is watching him in the mirror, concern evident in his expression. 

“I saved as much as I could,” Hakkai says softly. 

For a moment he thinks Gojyo isn’t going to answer but then he turns away from the mirror and places his hands on Hakkai’s waist. 

“Oh babe,” he says. “You’ve saved more than that.” 

They make love for the first time that evening. That night they talk of life and loss and love, of all the things that had been impossible during the journey, of all the dreams they hadn’t dared to dream. Suddenly the future is filled with possibility and hope and a joy so large that the apartment feels as if it’s bursting at the seams. 

They buy a house the week after. A double bed with new sheets, a kitchen with a pantry, sunflowers growing in the yard. Hakkai has to check his reflection in the bathroom mirror to be certain that this really is his life, _their_ life, and not the fever dream of the dying man he used to be. 

Hakkai wakes first the next morning and goes through the motions of breakfast. 

Breakfast had been one of the first routines to come back to him after the journey was over. Boiling the water for coffee, heating up the stove for cooking, cracking local eggs into the pan and listening to the oil sizzle and pop. In the past, back when they had been two lost young men with no direction, Gojyo would sleep in right up until the plates were set on the table. Now he stumbles into the kitchen as soon as the bacon goes into the pan, dressing gown hanging open and hair a mess. 

“An angel,” he says vaguely. 

Hakkai pretends to look curiously at the bacon and then shakes his head. 

“I’m fairly certain that it’s pork.” 

Gojyo snorts and meanders over to press a kiss to Hakkai’s cheek. 

“You’re the angel,” he insists. “For a smart guy you’re pretty dumb.” 

“For a dumb guy, you’re pretty,” Hakkai replies smoothly and gets another kiss for his trouble. “Now sit down and stop bothering me while I’m cooking.” 

“Gotcha.” 

Of course, all of this is new. Once upon a time they had skirted around any signs of tenderness as if it would pull them in and swallow them whole. Hakkai supposes that now it probably has and, well, it’s not that bad at all. A little awkward at time, a lot clumsy, with a hefty dose of fear, but not bad. 

He serves up breakfast and sets the plates down on the table just as Gojyo finishes his coffee. 

“Looks good,” Gojyo says, reaching for his fork and then a little further to brush Hakkai’s fingers with his own. 

“Yes,” Hakkai agrees. His eyes aren’t on the food before him. “It does, doesn’t it?” 

This is where the next story begins. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on Twitter @_zenbee!


End file.
